The Writers' Circle

Ice daggers hang perilously above my head
Twinkling in the dawn light
The morning silence is obtrusive
A heavy weight of expectation presses down on me
Like the icicles, just waiting to fall
The sparkling snow lies innocently beneath my feet
Underneath lies a glistening sheen of deadly ice
Waiting for you to be deceived
One wrong step and it could claim you
Its façade of innocence was just that
There is nothing naïve about winter
Its dangers lurk waiting to pounce
As the season loosens its arctic grip
An cold drip hits my face
Startled from my reverie I look up
Winters final assault is launched
Icicles being to plummet to the ground